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"You're my fucking husband!"- Francis Shelby
Idle chat, blushed faces and glossed over eyes. That set the mood for this night. Thomas had decided not to go home and to instead agree with Francis and stay to keep her company. He didn't mind walking home in the rain and knew tomorrow he'd have to return home anyway to prepare for John's wedding. But he wanted to stay close to her for one night.
Francis seemed dazed but happy, earlier in the evening she had decided to pull out an old bottle of gin and pour herself a glass.
She turned to face her grumpy Thomas Shelby. "You know when I first saw you walking past the garrison I thought to myself who the fuck does this twat think he is..." she took a pause smiling in remembrance of how long ago it now was "then I got to know you and your family. It was like opening a diary of a poet. It was perfect. I never saw your pretty horse and you never did name it, so I came up with one for it. But then I never got around to telling you."
Thomas smirked pleased at the thought she had named it, but his mind flooded with guilt at how he had wronged her.
She then began laughing at something in her head "listen I'll tell you what I named him if you tell me what you want to say. I can see you have something on your mind, Tommy" a gently hand was placed atop his, and she also gave him a calm smile.
"I kissed Grace" he said awfully bluntly.
Fran's face fell and she slowly removed her hand off of his, a single tear cascading down her face. It took her a while to completely understand what exactly he was saying and then it hit her... like a ton of bricks "oh. Oh, oh god" she brought her trembling hand to cover her mouth.
Thomas sat there uncomfortable wishing he could feel sorry for her and apologise for what he had done but he couldn't seem to do it.
"So did I mean fucking nothing?" She spoke in almost a whisper out of fear of her anger.
"It was a bloody kiss, Fran!" he brought his hand up to his face and drug it across it tiredly.
She gave him a soft smile before standing up "I've got a shift in the morning so I better get to sleep, you can take the couch I can't bare the sight of you" she threw her blanket over him and headed to her small room.
-
Francis had gotten not an ounce of sleep, and down in the living area, Thomas hadn't either. They both tossed thinking about how they had messed up in different ways.
Thomas couldn't bring himself to apologise but he could at least go and comfort her, so he did. He swiftly got up from the sofa and headed to her room. The stairs creaked under his feet wether he going slow or not.
